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Club Stunts 

Five Entertaining Stunts 

for 

Women’s Clubs 

High Schools, Lodges and 
Other Organizations 


By IDA G. NORTON 
La Junta, Colo. 



PRICE 

Six Copies, $2.50 
















































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AOG j 1 1922 © C1A68G266 












THE WHY OF THESE STUNTS 


After putting on two of these stunts recently, in clubs to which 
she belongs, and realizing the big demand and small supply of this 
kind of entertainment, Mrs. Norton has written out these five with 
the expectation that they will help to fill the oft expressed query, 
“Where can we find a new stunt or comedy playlet?” 

By advertising, these can be made real moneymakers—if so desired. 
The playlet, “At the Photographers” (written for the occasion), won 
cash prize over seven stunts in a contest in May, 1922. 



Copyright 

1922 


Ida G. Norton 


AUNT SALLY SAUNDERS’ HEALTH CRUSADE 


CAST. 

Aunt Sally Saunders, dressed as a farmer’s wife, in her home. 

Mrs. Elmira Peters, a neighbor, wearing sunbonnet, house dress and 
apron, runs in for a morning chat. 


Aunt Sally (puts on her spectacles, frowning while she looks over 
several large sheets of paper, covered with writing, as she seats her¬ 
self at a small table) : “0(h, Mercy! Seems like I’ll never get this 
writ up to suit me. I do hope nobody comes along to bother me, 
specially Elmiry Peters. Now I’ll hafta read this all over again.” 

(Someone raps at the door.) 

Aunt Sally (talking as she goes to the door) : “Good land! Who’s 
that now cornin’ to bother me? Oh, Elmira Peters (shaking hands), 
how glad I am to see you!” 

Elmira: “I s’pose you’re busy as ever, Aunt Sally” (sitting down. 
Aunt Sally seats herself at the table). 

Aunt Sally: “Well, I sh’d say so. You know, Elmiry, I went over 
to Pine Center a month ago to the big Grange meetin’, an’ I seen Mrs. 
Abe Weatherman there. She comes to Jerkwater the next Sunday 
a-visitin’ Mrs. Swinehart, a member of the Tuesday Busybody Club, 
an’ told her about me bein’ there. So Mrs. Swinehart thot it would 
be instructive like for me to come and tell the club some of the good 
things the speakers give us there. She ast me to read a paper. Land 
alive! I never done writ a paper in my life. I mostly write to my 
sister, Lizzie, or the mail order houses. I told her though, I’d try to 
recollect the best things Miss Cheeseman said about ‘How to Feed 
Your Family.’ That wasn’t exactly her text, but that is where she 
landed. She said (reading from paper), ‘The fireplace (fireside) is the 
hub of the universe.’ Now t , Elmiry, I’ve saw lots of fireplaces but I 
never seen one that looked like a hub. She talked awhile about the 
family life and about how one generation all has good indigestion, an’ 
the next one, seems like, all has bad indigestion. She said so much 
about everything a-most dependin’ on the mother, I thot it was real 
discouragin’ to young folks jest a startin’ out in life. She said, ‘The 
housewife regulates the pulses of the family by her cookin.’ 

“Now, I can jest tell you when Amos gets one of them bilious spells 
o’ his’n, an’ lays on the lounge, an’ has a fever with his pulse a thump¬ 
in’ at two hundred a minute, it don’t make no defference what I cook 
for him, his pulse don’t slow down a mite—-I c’n cook up a big dinner 
an’ he won’t eat a bite. She said, ‘ For health, serve breakfast serious 
(cereals) with cream an’ sugar first.’ 

— 3 — 




Well, I thot I’d try some of her directions on Amos an’ see how 
they worked, so one morning I fetched in the cream an’ sugar jest as 
serious as I could: he wouldn’t tech it. 

“She talked a lot about vittlemites (vitamines.) Now, who’d think 
of mites in vittles? You an’ me knows all about chicken mites, but I 
never hearn tell o’ these kind. She says aigs is full of ’em. I wasn’t 
settin’ very dost up so I listened real good along there, ’cause she was 
from Rhode Island, an’ I was real sure she would say something about 
Rhode Island Reds. I’d a lot rather raise them than any other chick¬ 
ens. Well, I’ve looked careful through sev’ral aigs, an I cain’t find a 
thing in ’em. I s’pose it takes a pair of pow’rful specs to see ’em. I 
need to have mine changed, I guess. My mother used to wear these 
(taking hold of her spectacles), first ones she ever had. All this talk 
about aigs an’ fresh meat an’ butter with fat in it, made me kinda 
scairt o’ lots o’ things, Elmiry. She said only a certain number of 
these vittlemites was good for home consumption, an’ not to assume 
too many. Why, I don’t believe jest a leetle bunch of ’em would a been 
good for Sarah Ellen Bates when she got so low with consumption, 
but they’re dangerous, she said, an’ mebby they jest et up her lungs 
right along, an’ there’s ole Ezry Marner coughin’ his life away. They 
say he raises a good deal when he coughs; I’ll bet most of it is them 
vittlemites jest a-ehokin up his lungs an’ liver. I made up my mind I 
couldn’t feed Amos more’n one aig a day or he’d just be a walkin’ 
menadgery o’ them germ things. The mornin’ I giv him breakfast 
serious, I brung in one aig soft biled, as she said, an’ no meat. Amos 
giv one look at it, an’ he says, ‘Woman!’ he says. Whenever he calls me 
‘Woman,’ I know he’s mad. ‘What’er you a givin’ me?’ he says, as cross 
as he could say it, Elmiry, er I hope to die. I jest cain’t stand to have 
nobody jump at me airly in the mornin’; I get all het up to onct. He says, 
Whatclia tryin’ to do? Bring down my gray hairs in sorrow to your 
grave?’ he says. That made me so mad, I was half cryin’. I says (half 
crying in high pitched voice), *No, I don’t s’pose you’ll sorrow much to 
my grave; I s’pose you’re like the Bible says—you’d rather live all your 
life on top o’ the house, in peace, than live with a bawling woman’, I 
says. You know, Elmiry, that was what Moses told the Queen of Sheba 
when she brung a whole trainload of camels to Jerusalem to put into 
Solomon’s temple. 

“Scripter always shuts Amos up; he can’t cote any and dassen’t 
answer back. 

“Well, I fried him a big slice o’ ham, an’ three aigs, an’ six griddle 
cakes, an’ give him three cups of coffee. I thot I’d jest go along same 
as always if the mites choked him to death. 

“She talked a lot about heavy foods, an’ said hot breads, an’ corn- 


— 4 — 


meal, buckwheat cakes an’ fresh meat an’ lots of other good things 
had calliopes (calories) in ’em.” 

Elmira: “Calliopes! Well, that’s the beatenest I ever hearn tell 
of. What was them?’ 

Aunt Sally: “We’ve all saw calliopes, an’ hearn ’em, too, at the 
circuses, but these is different. She said it was dangerous to eat too 
many of ’em to a meal. They have a way of heatin’ lip your insides.” 

Elmira : “Mercy on us! Think of the dreadful chances we’re takin’ 
all the time. Are they germs too?” 

Aunt Sally: “Yes, an’ bad ones, I guess, cause they’re in so many 
things we eat an’ stop indigestion entirely sometimes. I’ve hunted 
for them, too, but I guess the heat makes them divisible. When I feel 
itchy, I think of all them vittlemites an’ calliopes a-creepin’ round 
inside o’ me, an’ it gives me an’ awful creepy feelin’ all over. Amos 
says, ‘Whatcha don’t know a’int a-goin’ to hurtcha nohow.’ I wisht 
sometimes I hadn’t went over to that Grange meetin’. It puts such 
big, new idees in a body’s head. When I git to thinkin’ about it at 
night, I liafta git up when I cain’t sleep an’ take a good drink o’ cider. 

“She said, ‘Nesessity is the mother of conventions.’ Now, Elmiry, 
you know an’ I know tliey’s lots of wimmin in this country is the moth¬ 
ers of children. An’ lastly I mustn’t forgit to tell about the big plants 
she told about. I never hearn of ’em before. They’re factory plants. 
I’m sure we don’t raise nothing like ’em ’round here. They raise food 
for children on big ones round Niagry Falls. I s’pose they grow so big 
there because they have so much water. They grow shelled wheat, 
an’ they make what she called ‘Shellded Wheat Biscuit’ (Shredded 
Wheat Biscuit) out of it. An’ they have sev’ral big plants at Battle 
Crick. That’s another big place where they have plenty of water all 
the time. I ast a lady next to me what the name of them was, an’ 
she said serious (cereal) plants. That’s what it sounded like; my deef 
ear was nighest to her. I thot o’ your night bloomin’ cerice, Elmiry, 

I wonder if they’re anything like it. But, of course, they’re great big 
trees.” 

Elmira: “Oh, yes; sure. Why, there’s lots o’ things in the world, 
ain’t they, Aunt Sally?” 

Aunt Sally: “There was Miss Belindy Brimstone, a nurse from a 
horspittle in Buffalo. She talked jest like the colored preacher does over 
to Jerkw T ater. She said her subject was, ‘Bettah Babies,’ an’ that 
there was lots more better babies today than they used to be, an’ they 
ought to be lots more than they is, that folks have learned to take 
better care of them these days. I cain’t agree with her there, ’cause 
nobody ever took better care of their babies than I did an’ nobody had 
more better babies than mine was. 


■5 — 


“She said, *You oughta feed certain times by the clock two or three 
hours apart, and not every time they cry.’ ” 

Elmira: “The poor little things! Why, I couldn’t treat a dog as 
mean as that. I’ve got a good heart in me if I ain’t good lookin’.” 

Aunt Sally : “I sli’d say so! With my three babies I never denied 
’em nothing. I’ll never have that troublin’ my conscience all my life. 
Little Samuel was as fine a baby as you ever seen, so big an’ strong 
an’ when he was sixteen months old he c’d eat griddle cakes an’ 
sausage, drink coffee and eat mince pie jest like a man. (She tells all 
this proudly.) When he was twenty months old he was took with 
convulsions an’ died awful suddent-like. Then little David had hookin’ 
cough awful bad when he was a year old. We drove over to my folkses 
at Christmas an’ he taken a bad cold on his lungs an’ in three days 
he died right in my arms, graspin’ for breath. But Jake pulled 
through an’ we’re turrible proud of him over to the agriculclier college 
in Kansas. Why, when he’s through there he’ll know how to raise all 
kinds of agriculclier, which is lots better’n plain farmin’. He’s workin’ 
his way through, too, takin’ care of the horses, tho what they want of 
a lot of horses to college for I don’t know. I s’pose for the boys to 
ride; they’re awful good to ’em there.” 

“Elmira: “Well, Aunt Sally, I must go. I’ve enjoyed your paper 
an awful lot. Missoury oughta feel proud of women like you. Now 
don’t get scairt at the club. Keep a stiff upper jaw. Goodbye. Come 
an’ see me soon an’ set awhile.” 

Aunt Sally (gathering up her papers): “Good land! It’s nigh 
a-most noon. I’m glad Elmiry did come ’cause I had a chanct to think 
up a lot o’ things like I want to say. I must hurry out an’ start the 
dinner.” 

NOTE—When Aunt Sally reads she pushes her spectacles close to 
her eyes. When she talks to Elmira she pulls them half way down 
her nose and looks over the top of them. 


DE INCOMIN’ TAX 


MONOLOGUE 

Cast—Mrs. Chocolate Brown. 

Enter Mrs. Brown (coming home from market carrying basket 
heaped with vegetables, bread, paper bags tied, etc.) 


“Howdy, Mis’ Scandalmonger; I’s jes gittin’ home fum market. 
Thankee, I’ll jes set heah on de poach. Yas'm, it’s cornin’ powahful 
walim dis mohnin’. (Fans herself with a big bandana kerchief while 
she rocks and puffs, appearing very warm.) Yaas’m, tings is gittin’ a 
li'l cheapah. Yo gits two loaves o’ bread fo’ twent,y-fi’ cents stiddin o’ 
tliutty so we’s savin’ money alius gittin’ two loaves an’ we eats twice 
de same ’mount o’ bread. An’ aigs thutty-two cents a dozen stiddin o’ 
eiglity-fi’ cents. Tliey’s lots o’ bandandits roun’ this heah towm what 
ain’t stickin’ no gun up agin yo’ insides, no suh! They’s jes keepin’ 
tings outen yo’ insides. But we’s jes had de mos’ straightenupest time 
down to ouah house bouten de incomin’ tax. Laws a massa (shaking 
her head mournfully), de times dem taxes bandandits has a-gittin’ 
money outen folkses what dey nevah done make. Cohs dey gits aftah 
my ole man Rastus, caus’n lie’s runnin’ de E-le-ite pool hall fo’ Mistah 
Buncoman. An’ Rastus he comes home t’othah day in de upsettinest 
windah frame o’ mind y’evah done looked thoo. ‘Choc’late,’ he says, 
‘what yo’ tink,’ Rastas says, ‘ w T e’s gotta sell mos’ ev’ting in dis house 
to pay dat incomin’ tax! Oh, Lawdy!’ he say. I says, ‘Rastus Brown, 
what youall spitten’ outen yo’ mouf, bouten some old ingrowin’ tax? 
Wy, Rastus, you’s de mos’ combustible big fool I have evali done saw,’ 
I says. ‘Who’s done sca’d yo’ white,’ I says. 

“ ‘Jedge Winebibbah, he’s aftah me,’ he says. Ah puts mah han on 
him (puts her hand up as though she were patting him) an’ ah says, 
‘Now, li’l un, jes leave dis to yo’ Ghoc’late,’ ah says, ‘an’ she’ll see 
Jedge Winebibbah mysef, befo’ de cock crows three times,’ ah says. 
A li’l Scripter alius depresses Rastus, Mils’ Scandalmonger, so I puts on 
my bes’ clo’es, an’ powdah, an’ pefumwry an’ I goes a foxtrottin’ 
down to Jedge Winebibbahs place. ‘Hello, Mis’ Brown,’ says the 
Jedge (seein’ I was a lady). ‘What kin I hep yo’ to, a di-vorse?’ I 
didn’t anseh him right quick, caus’n mah haht was a jumpin’ right up 
in my mouf so fast like. Ah hadda swaller some big lumps whiles I 
se’ down kinda heavy like but when ah could gestickilate ah says, 
‘Jedge, I’se come to be consolin’ you a little bouten how much money 
w° ain’t got.’ ‘Oli, yes, incomin’ tax,’ he says, squinchin’ up his eyes 

— 7 — 




while’s he played roun’ wid a lead pencil on a sheet o’ paper. Now, 
le’ me tell you suthin’, Mis’ Scandalmonger, mebby you don’ know 
(shaking her finger impressively at her) whenevah de obsessor man 
or the ingrowin’ tax man comes roun’ yo’ is a pore woman. ‘Jedge,’ 
I says, ‘ah ain’t got nothin’ to sell to pay no incomin’ tax. I’m a po’ 
woman,’ I says. He is a kind sympathetic soht o’ man an’ makes yo’ 
want him to know as much bouten yo’ as yo’ knows yosef. He says, 
‘Don’t yo’ be worritin’, Mis’ Brown,’ he says. ‘That’s a mighty glad 
lookin’ dress you’re awearin,’ he says, ‘looks like they’s good stuff in 
it.’ Ha, ha, ha, (she rocks back and forth, laughing uproarously, slap¬ 
ping on her knee, ending with a little high squeal), to tink of him 
noticin’ my puhple dress, Mis’ Scandalmonger. Ah says, ‘Tank you, 
Jedge, it’s a sixty dollali gayrmint I got at (naming a local firm) fo’ 
tliutty-seben fifty.’ 'Then he talked bouten lots of tings I’ve got in 
mah house, my ’lectric washin’ mashine fo’ hundred an’ sixty-fi dollalis, 
an’ my sewin’ mashine motah fo’ twenty-fo’ fifty, ’n mah graphafoom 
cost th’ee hunded dollahs, ’n lotsa things, jes visitin’ like, nevah talkin' 
bouten no incomin’ tax a tall. The Jedge says, ‘I’se spectin’ Mose 
Huckaberry in to fix up his tax today.’ I says (sitting forward and 
getting excited), ‘What! Mose Huckaberry, that low down chofer what 
works fo’ the day an’ night garidge? Law sakes! My ole man he 
makes six times mor’n Mose ’n not half try. Wy, oftentimes dey done 
give Rastus a hundehd dollahs to keep his mouf shut at a good game. 
Rastus he says dey mout go to paradin’ de place so we ain’t tellin’ 
nothin’ what’s goin’ on. Ah reckon ah kin pay spotted cash fo’ moali 
fummadiddles than th’ee, fo’ families like Mose wid his six pickaninny 
ragamuffins.’ ‘Well,’ 'de Jedge says, ‘dem six brats o’ his’n worf fo’ 
hundehd dollahs each an ev’y one, an’ Mis’ Brown yo’ chile is worf fo’ 
hundehd.’ ‘What!’ I says, ‘my chile Yi’let Rose, (getting very excited, 
pounding the arm of her chair with her fist.) Wy, she’s done worf fo’ 
hundehd thousan’ dollahs stidden o’ fo hundehd dollahs. Wy, dat gell 
o’ mine, she’s de mos’ pop’larst gell on de maliket today, an’ huh jes’ 
fifteen yeahs ole come las’ fall. Now I ain’t a-braggin’ (you knows 
me, Mis’ Scandalmonger), but of all the gells in dis heah town I’ll 
tell the worl they’n one cain’t hole a plummah’s candle to my Vi’let 
Rose.’ 

“ ‘Well, Mis’ Brown,’ says the Jedge, ‘you doan hafto pay no in¬ 
comin’ tax atall iffen yo’ jes put yo’ mahk right theh to show youall 
been heah fo’ consolation an’ advice, all yo’ has to pay is de small 
summons of twenty-fo’ dollahs an’ sixty-fi’ cents an’ save yosef hunneds 
of dollahs.’ So I jes prejuce a few bills I done snuk outen Rastuses 
Sunday pants an’ I ain’t done tole nobody. Well, I mus’ be gwine 
long, goo’bye (starts away. This last may be used as an encore). 
Oh, say, Mis’ Scandalmonger, dey do say Jedge Winebibber has cases 


8 


an’ cases o’ bootlaigs, but whaten he does wid ’em, you-tell-me, caus’n 
1 done looked ev’wlieh in his wohk shop an’ I nevah done seen one 
ruhbah nor leathah bootlaig an’ I tuk puticklah notice he was weahin’ 
low shoes, when I went to see him. Well, goo’bye, Mis’ Scandalmonger, 
corne'n see me sometime.” 

NOTE—To color chocolate brown, use a bar of bakers sweet choco¬ 
late dry, melt in dish over steam, apply while warm. Cover face, neck, 
arms and hands except palms. Is easily washed off. 


AT THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S. 


CAST—Photographer (dressed as a young man, wearing small 
moustache, large, heavy shell rim spectacles, hair straight back, and 
by turning under and pinning flat at crown of head with lower back 
hair and just over ears drawn up tightly and pinned securely, a young 
man’s style of haircut is easily achieved. 

A sign. “I. SIIOOTEM, PRIZE POSE AND LIGHTNING ARTIST,” 
should be conspicuously displayed. Camera and tripod. This may be 
home made, which adds much to amusement of audience. A corru¬ 
gated pasteboard box about 7x10, with a tomato can inserted half way 
in one end, open end out, the whole painted black and mounted on some 
old brass curtain rods the right height, put in tripod fashion; secure 
these by board nailed inside box and rods stuck into gimlet holes. 
Add black cloth and toy squawker. Make slots at right side of camera 
for plates, two small tin pie plates. Studio should have several chairs, 
one child’s chair, a small stand with glass vase of flowers half full 
of water. 


FIRST PICTURE. 

CAST—Old maid, Miss Priscilla Peabody (should dress in old 
fashioned costume if possible, with bonnet, side curls, mitts, etc.) 

Miss Peabody (entering timidly) : “Good morning, Mr. Shootem.” 

Phot.: “Good morning, Miss Peabody (shaking hands), you’re out 
early today.” 

Miss P.: “Yes, I tliot I’d have you take a picture of me, if you 
could take a good one.” 

Phot.: “Oh. certainly. I always take a good one. I have a special 
bargain to offer you today, my six dollar ones are five ninety-five for 
this week. I have several kinds of finish (showing her some photo- 


9 




graphs). These are the sleepy (sepia) finish, and this the gray 
enamel, and this the oxodized. You can have any of these—the plain 
or fabric finish.” 

Miss P.: “Is the fabric wool or cotton?” 

Phot.: “Oh, cotton; but it’s all right, wears well.” 

Miss P.: “I believe I’ll have the fabric finish then, because I read 
all kinds of cotton fabrics are very stylish now" in New York. Do you 
think I’d take a good allover picture, or just half of me?” 

Phot, (eyeing her critically) : “Oh, a full length, Miss Peabody, 
would be fine. You know the old saying, ‘Seeing is believing,’ and if 
your friends can see only half of you, how can they imagine what 
you look like?” 

Miss P.: “I always get nervous when I have a picture taken. I 
want to send one to a very dear friend who has not seen me in a long 
time.” (Simpering.) 

Phot.: “Well, we’ll be seated and get ready. (Arranges her dress. 
Just as he is pretending to sight her through the camera with the 
cloth over his head, she jumps with a scream upon another chair, 
holding her dress around her feet, screaming, “A mouse! A mouse!” 
He grabs a cane and strides over to the mouse hiding behind a leg of 
the stand and kills the dead mouse, holding it up by the tail. He 
coaxes her back into her chair, patting her shoulder; tells her where 
to look and takes the picture with a squawk of the toy under the 
cloth. She jumps violently.) 

Phot.: “Well, there; it’s all over and I think will be fine.” 

Miss P.: “When can I see the proof?” 

Phot.: “In about an hour. I have a lightning process, with veedol 
oil and carbolic acid. I work very fast.” 

Miss P. : “I’ll make a down payment of a dollar, Mr. Shootum; if 
that is all right.” (Hands him a dollar w T hich he stuffs into his pants 
pocket with great satisfaction as Miss P. goes out saying, “Goodbye.” 

Phot. “Well, I’ll get busy (takes a tin plate out of the camera and 
goes into the dark room, hears someone coming and comes out to 
greet them).” 

SECOND PICTURE—FOUR GENERATIONS. 

CAST—Great grandma, grandma, mother, child. (Great grandma 
should be dressed like an old lady, gray hair parted in the middle, 

bonnet tied under her chin; is lame and hard of hearing, and carries 

an ear trumpet—a toy will do. Mrs. Strong, her daughter, is a middle 

aged woman. Mrs. Weeks, young and up to date. The child may be 
a big doll.) 

Mrs. Strong: “Is this Mr. Shootem’s picture gallery?” 

Phot.: “Yes, I am Mr. Shootem (coming over to Mrs. Weeks who 


— 10 — 


is carrying tlie baby), I suppose it is the baby gets screened today.” 

Mrs. Weeks: “Oh, he doesn’t scream any.” 

Mrs. Strong: (introduces her mother, Mrs. Elder, and her daughter, 
Mrs. Weeks, and Jimmy Weeks) : “We tliot we’d have a picture of 
the four of us if you could take it.” 

Phot.- “Oh. fine. A four generations picture (places chairs for 
them). What finish would you like. This is the dappled gray, this 
the oxodized, and this the sleepy, which is a brown tint and gives a 
very soft effect.” (The mother and daughter confer together.) 

Mrs. Strong: “You’d better ask mother what she thinks; she might 
feel slighted. She doesn’t hear well.” 

Phot, (trying to show the pictures) : “Grandma, which finish do 
you like? (She does not hear. He shouts louder. She puts up her 
ear trumpet.) The others like the sleepy finish best.” (Shows the 
photos.) 

Grandma (in a high pitched, querulous voice) : “Well, it don’t 
make no difference to me, just so it don’t cost too much.” 

Phot. : “Oh. they’re all the same price, five ninety-five a dozen. 
They’ve been six dollars, but I am making a special price this week. 
There’s a reason why you should patronize your home town, you get 
bargains.” (He seats them. Mrs. Weeks, holding the baby, sits by 
grandma; Mrs. Strong stands just back of them and rather between. 
The child is fussy and has to have the nursing bottle. Just as he 
gets all ready to shoot, grandma nods a little.) 

Mrs. Strong (shaking her shoulder): “Oh, mother; you mustn’t 
go to sleep.” (She shouts in her ear.) 

Grandma (waking with a start) : “Mercy! I thot I was in church.” 
(Mrs. Weeks hands the bottle, half full of milk, to her mother, who 
stands, rigidly clutching it, while the picture is taken. After telling 
them where to look and to smile, he snaps it with a squawk. They all 
jump, except grandma.) • 

Phot.: “I am afr’aid the baby moved. We’d better try another.” 
(Asks Mrs. Strong to sit and hold the baby and Mrs. Weeks to stand. 
The baby is fussy, and just as he snaps it they are all looking at the 
baby.) 

Phot.: “I am sure one of these will be good.” (They get up to go.) 

Grandma: “Well, it is over. I’d rather have a tooth pulled any 
day than get my picture took.” 

Mrs. Strong: “When can we see the proofs?” 

Phot.: “This afternoon. With my quick process of mazola oil and 
muriatic acid I can produce very rapid results.” 

(They leave.) 


— 11 


THIRD PICTURE—BRIDE AND GROOM. 


CAST—Bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. Younglove. Enter groom 
with tall bride leaning upon his arm, decked out in white wedding 
dress with long lace curtain veil held by white flowers. Groom is short, 
wears long coat and high silk hat, and wears moustache. 

Groom: “Is Mr. Shootum in today?” 

Phot, (coming forward cordially, shaking hands) : “I am Shootem.” 

Groom : “My name is Younglove, and this is my wife, Mr. Shootem.” 

Phot, (bowing low) : “Ah, Mrs. Younglove; so delighted to know 
you.” 

Younglove: “We’ve just been married and we want a fine big 
picture just as we are.” 

Phot.: “Splendid. Now, Mr. Younglove, you will sit here and 
the bride will stand at your left.” 

Bride: “Oh, no; I want to stand at his right so I can hang my 
hand over his shoulder and show my rings.” (Shows the photographer 
how and displays an immense glass set ring. He drapes her vail, etc., 
while the groom smiles at her and pats her hand.) 

Phot, (going to camera and sighting): “Now, all ready. Mrs. 
Younglove look right over here, and Mr. Younglove about here.” 

Bride (looking down : “But I don’t want to look there: I want 
to look at him.” 

Phot. “Your eyes will show better if you look here.” (Bride takes 
a rigid attitude; groom tries to fix his gaze; photographer says, 
“Ready, one, two, three,” and snaps it just as the groom rolls his 
eyes up to the bride.) 

Phot.: “Fine. Now, what finish would you like; I have a rain¬ 
bow tint that is in colors, and only costs five dollars more.” 

Groom (loftily) : “That will suit, money is no object. Here is a 
down payment (handing him a couple of bills) and we will be back 
next week.” (They sweep out, arm in arm.) 

(The photographer hurriedly changes plates, when a group of club 
women arrives.) 

FOURTH PICTURE—GROUP OF CLUB WOMEN. 

CAST—Club women (any number) ; Mrs. Bumpus and little girl, 
Betsy Jane; Miss De Flapper and aunt, Mrs. Clymer. 

Betsy Jane should be a club woman dressed as a little girl, and is 
very naughty. Miss De Flapper is an up to date flapper, carrying a 
vanity case and powdering her nose often. 

Club women enter. 

Mrs. Clymer: “This is Mr. Shootem’s photograph study, ain’t it?” 

Photo.: “Yes, I am Mr. Shootem.” 


12 


Mrs. Clymer: “Oil, Mr. Shootem; I am Mrs. Clymer and I’d like 
to introduce to you my niece, Miss De Flapper, who has just graduated 
from college at Valparaiso, Indiana.” 

Photo, (shaking hands) : Valparaiso! That is where the Valspar 
varnish is made, I believe. (Puts his hands into his trousers pockets 
and becomes very genial.) Well, I graduated two years ago from the 
Edsel-Ford College in Detroit. I specialized in mechanical art. That 
is where the Mona Lizzie is made. Now, who wants a picture; you, I 
suppose.” (Looking sweetly at Miss De Flapper, who returns his look.) 

Club Woman: “We are the Sunny Monday Club from liubeville, 
and we tliot we’d like to all be together in a picture. Do you think 
we’d make a good collection?” 

Phot.: “Oh, indeed, yes. The Sunny Monday Club is a literary 
club, eh?” 

Club Woman: “Yes, the Sunny Monday Literary Soap Club. With 
every hundred cakes we buy we get a beautiful book, and (impressively) 
we study how to raise chickens, how to care for our husbands, and 
how to vote.” (If there is a local man up for office she can add, “And 
when So-and-so runs for office we’ll all vote for him.) 

Phot. : “Well, now, ladies; we will get ready for a shot.” (Ar¬ 
ranges the chairs ETalf will stand behind those sitting, showing many 
sprawling hands over shoulders.) 

Betsy Jane: “Did you say youse agonna shoot?” 

Phot.: “Only a picture; that won’t hurt.” 

Betsy Jane (rolling her eyes all round) : “Maw, is this the place 
where Mr. Walt had Skeezixes picture took?” 

Ma : “Keep still, Betsy Jane; I guess so.” 

Betsy Jane: “Maw, will I know when I get took?” 

Ma : “Yes, child; it won’t hurt. Mr. Shootem, you mustn’t mind 
Betsy Jane; she’s an awful nervous child.” 

Phot.: “It’s all right, madam; I have splendid success with chil¬ 
dren.” (Makes a few changes; places Miss De Flapper at one end, 
standing. She loses no chance to smile at him.) 

Betsy Jane: “Where’m I goin’ to set?” 

Phot.: “We’ll see.” (Going to camera.) 

Betsy Jane (coming to him: “Say, Mr. Shooter, y’ain’t got no 
cookies round here, have yuh?” 

Phot.: “I’m afraid not, but try one of these.” (Giving her a big 
gum drop out of his coat pocket, which she pops into her cheek, 
sucking in her breath and making a noise.) 


13 


(Photographer seats her at her mother’s knees on a little chair. 
Her mother is always turning around to talk to the other women.) 

Ma : “Now, Betsy Jane; you set real still or a big bear’ll come out 
of there and catch you.” 

Betsy Jane: “Aw, you always say that, but I never seen one yet. 

Phot, (impatiently leaving camera): “Oh, my! Betsy Jane, you 
can’t chew anything while I’m taking your picture.” 

(She hurriedly spits the gumclrop into her kerchief, making a lot 
of noise. Ma gets her kerchief out and wipes Betsy’s mouth.) 

Phot.: “Betsy Jane, you look here at the camera; the row standing 
behind look there (pointing) ; those sitting look here, and (pointing to 
Miss De Flapper) you look at me (pointing to himself very significantly) 
Now, all ready; one, two, three.” (A squawk. They all jump violently. 
Betsy screams.) 

Phot.: “Well, I’m afraid Betsy Jane moved and spoiled this one. 
We’d better try another one to make sure of a good one.” 

(Photographer rearranges the group a little. Betsy Jane gets 
restless.) 

Betsy Jane (standing) : “Maw, I’m thirsty. I wanta drink, ma” 

Ma (coaxingly) : “Now, you set still a minute like a good girl, and 
I’ll get you some sody water.” 

Betsy Jane (stamping her foot) : “I want it now.” 

(While ma’s attention is taken by the photographer, Betsy roams 
over to the stand where a glass half full of water holds some flowers. 
Grasping the flowers with one hand, she drinks out of the glass, when 
her mother discovers her.) 

Ma (rushing to her and snatching the glass) : Oh, Betsy Jane; for 
mercy’s sake! What are you drinking!” (Turning to the club women, 
half crying.) “Oh, I wonder if it will poison her.” 

Club Woman (crossly) : “Course not Just give her a big dose of 
pyroxide when you get home That’ll fix the poison.” (Betsy rubs her 
mouth with the back of her hand and begins to whimper.) 

Ma (jerking her along, pushes her down hard into her seat. Betsy 
throws the flowers angrily into the middle of the floor.) 

Ma : “Now, Betsy Jane; you behave yourself.” 

(Ma talks to those back of her. The photographer goes into the 
dark room a moment. Betsy slips up to the camera, takes out one of 
the plates and licks it once with her tongue, then tries to look straight 
up through it and turns toward the group, holding it close to her 
eyes.) 


— 14 — 


Betsy Jane: '‘Maw; oh, maw; I see ye; yer upside down, maw.” 

Ma: “Good gracious, Betsy Jane! You’ll break that.” Betsy tries 
to replace it in a hurry and lets it fall.) 

Ma (picking it up) : “Betsy Jane, you naughty girl; just look 
what you have did!” (Betsy begins to cry.) 

Phot.: “Never mind, madam; I have plenty more plates.” 

(Betsy sits down, sobbing against her mother’s knee. She finally 
gets her quieted, wipes her eyes and some imaginary dirt off her cheek, 
wetting her kerchief placed over her finger.) 

Phot.: “Now, Betsy Jane; if you’ll just look here (pointing to 
camera lens) a little bird may fly right out of here as I take the 
picture. You keep your eyes open; maybe you can catch him.” (Betsy 
Jane sits with mouth open and arms outstretched, watching intently 
for the bird. The group all stare with set faces when the photographer 
says “Ready,” and all jump when the picture is snapped.) 

Phot.: “That’s all. I’m sure that was a good one.” 

Club Woman : “When can we see the proofs?” 

Phot.: “At four this afternoon. You see with Wesson oil and 
carbonic acid I work fast.” (They start out and Miss De Flapper 
says, “Goodbye.”) 

Miss De Flapper: “Goodbye, Mr. Shootem. I’m coming right soon 
to have a picture taken.” 

Phot, (grasping her hand in both of his) : “I’d like to take you 
life size.” 

Miss De Flapper: “Do come over to Oak Ridge to visit us soon; 
it’s the house with seventeen gables.” 

Phot.: “I’ll drive over Sunday.” 

(Betsy comes rushing back and in a whining tone says : “Oh, Mr. 
Shooter; gimme that birdie.”) 

Phot.: “It’s gone; Betsy Jane. Take this and run along.” (Gives 
her a gum drop. She runs as her mother calls her.) 

(Curtain.) 


15 


HOW TO REDUCE 


CAST;—Any number of club women, padded to make them look fat. 
Mrs. Hunter, who is hostess to the Jolly Housewives’ Club, is 
dusting and arranging the chairs at the last minute. 


Mrs. Hunter: “My! I do hope they’ll all come this afternoon, and 
that Mrs. Peck will bring her cousin, even though she can’t stay long. 
She is so well posted.” (Someone raps.) 

Mrs. Hunter: “Oh, mercy! There they are.” (Receives several 
club women, and in a few minutes they have all arrived.) 

Club President: “Ladies, come to order, please.” (Rapping with 
her gavel.) “We will have the minutes of the last meeting.” 

Secretary: “The Jolly Housewives’ Club met October 9 at the 
home of Mrs. Swan. Minutes of the last meeting read and approved. 
No business transacted. A very able paper was read by Mrs. White 
on the subject, ‘What Is the Difference Between the Domestic Pie and 
the Eskimo Pie,’ after which delicious refreshments were served con¬ 
sisting of hot rolls, creamed chicken, riced potatoes, deviled eggs, Im¬ 
perial salad, olives, preserves, ice cream, cake and coffee.” 

President: “We will have a few current events first, if anyone has 
anything to bring.” 

Club Woman: “I have been reading some articles in the Brown- 
ville Meteor on ‘Overweight, Underweight, and Health,’ and I am 
convinced that I ought to reduce but do not know just how to pro¬ 
ceed. I have a weak heart and am afraid to diet much.” (She looks 
around inquiringly.) 

Another: “Oh, well; starving yourself may not reduce you.” 

Another: “I have read that we ought to live almost entirely on 
fruits, and exercise a great deal.” 

Another: “Well, I can’t buy fruit all the time; it is too expensive, 
and not fattening. I need nourishment.” (She is thin.) 

Another: “Ladies, I have heard that six quarts of buttermilk a 
day will drive the hives away. That is worth remembering.” 

Another (scornfully): “Well, who has hives, and wants to go 
around like a barrel churn with the butter just removed, and all the 
buttermilk left in.” 

Another: “Ladies, I have just read that some kinds of perfume 
will drive ants aw 7 ay.” 


— 16 — 




Another: “Gracious. I should think so, and uncles and cousins, 
too. Why, some perfumes would drive burglars away. Smells like a 
combination of musk and asafetida.” (They all laugh.) 

President : “Well, ladies, we will dispense with our regular pro¬ 
gram today, as we have with us Miss Allen, who will leave in a couple 
of hours for Chicago. We will ask her to talk on whatever interesting 
topic she likes.” 

Miss Allen: “Madam president and ladies. I am sure many of you 
are interested in the subject of reducing your weight (looking at the 
fat ones who are padded. They nod). Well, I have just taken a course 
in Chicago and lost twenty-five pounds in five weeks. You can see I 
am just about the proper size now. If you like I will put you through 
a few simple exercises now and send you a book of illustrations, and 
I’ll come back in four weeks to take you through. All stand.” (Per¬ 
forms a set of gymnastic exercises which they follow in a listless, life¬ 
less fashion, very funny, looking at one another in dismay as she 
counts “one, two. three,” or “one, two, three, four,” and one by one 
they become exhausted and drop down on their chairs or sink to the 
floor.) 

Miss Allen: “Now, ladies; you must not only exercise but be very 
careful what you eat. I can see by the refreshments this club serves 
you eat entirely too much and too rich foods. You must leave out things 
having sugar and starch in them, and butterfat. Eat no milk, butter, 
ice cream and whipped cream (they look at one another with long, dole¬ 
ful faces), and you should eat no pie nor cake (their faces lengthen), 
and leave out potatoes, rice, corn, hot bread, white bread, doughnuts, 
etc., baked beans, fresh pork, sausage and rich stews. Eat only six 
ounces of lean beef in a week (they slump down with groans). You 
follow these directions and you’ll get thin. Well, really, ladies, I must 
go to get my train. Sorry I can’t stay the afternoon.” 

(As soon as she goes there is a torrent of comments such as : 

“Mercy! I’d just as soon be as big as a barrel and enjoy life.” 

“Good heavens! Who wants to go through life a poor starved 
heathen?” 

“Why, we have meat three times a day, think of six ounces! My 
cat eats lots more’n that.” 

“She must think we’re all camels, wanting to go through the eye 
of a needle.” 

“My husband’s fat; he’d look funny going around with a bloodless 
katydid wife, wouldn’t he?” 


The fattest one asks: “How many years would I have to starve 
to get slim? Wouldn’t it be fun cooking good things and starving o 
death at the same time.” 

Another: “I haven’t backbone enough to stick to it. I’d be eating 
while I’m asleep.” 

Soneone raps, and Mrs. Slocum and her niece, who is from New 
York, enter.) 

The President: “We are happy, ladies, to have with us Miss Swift, 
of New York. We were just taking exercises to reduce. They make 
us pretty lame, and we’ll have to go without almost everything to eat. 
About the only things left us is bran mash and boiled turnips.” 

Miss Swift: “I am so glad this subject came up. I know a per¬ 
fectly wonderful way to reduce. I have just taken the course in 
New York. (They all sit up and take notice, rock and nod and smile 
at one another). You don’t have to diet at all. Eat everything you 
like. (They all clap hands). The system is the science of reducing to 
music.” 

“Music!” they exclaim in chorus. “How t could music make you 
thin?” 

Miss Swift: “Someone go to the piano and play some of the popular 
airs; some of the choruses and good dance pieces, and I’ll show you 
how it’s done. Three months ago I weighed one hundred and sixty ?five 
pounds and look at me now 7 . (Whirls around, arms extended wide.) 
I am sure you’ll enjoy this. We’ll begin the simplest way today. You 
know if you think that you’ve never seen any musicians—people who 
hear a good deal of music—who are fat.” (The pianist has been 
practicing softly and they can’t keep their feet still.) 

Club Woman “What about the thin lady in the side show—the 
skeleton woman. Is she so thin because she hears the band so much?” 

Another: “Good land, no! Think of the fat lady right alongside 
of her. Why don’t she get thin?” 

Miss Allen: “Oh, she was born fat. Now, all stand, hands on 
hips. Now we’ll run forward six steps (or four steps, suiting the num¬ 
ber to the time of the music. The fat women should jump up and 
down rather heavily and in a clumsy manner). 

Miss Allen: “Now back (counting w 7 ith the time of the music), 
repeat. Now forward, arms outstretched in front; now back. Now 
arms extended wide to right and left, foiwvard and back. Repeat. 
Now forward with arms high above head; now 7 back. (Another piano 
selection may be substituted during this exercise). Now 7 be seated.” 

(They agree this is easy as dancing.) 


— 18 


“Now hands on sides and we’ll do the swaying act.” (Keeping 
time with slow mnsic with hands up on ribs they bend over to right, 
then back, and to left and back, Miss Allen saying slowly: “R-i-g-h-t; 
up; 1-e-f-t; up.” Repeat several times. Some of them get mixed 
on directions and bump their heads.) 

“Now we’ll do the rocking act” (Have some rocking chairs, and 
those on straight chairs can pretend they rock by swaying forward 
and backward. The music begins slow but increases in tempo and as 
it quickens they begin to laugh.) 

Miss Allen: “Ladies, you must not laugh. You know the old 
adage, ‘Laugh and grow fat.’ ” (They sober up and burst out laughing 
more and more.) 

One Fat Woman: “Say, I’m going to get Annie Jackson to come 
over and stay at my house to play the piano, and I’m going to rock 
all day.” 

Another: “I’ll run my phonograph all day and rock.” 

Miss Allen: “Yes, ladies; you’ll lose an ounce every ten minutes.” 

A Fat One: “I begin to feel thinner already (placing her hands 
over her stomach), and I’m hungry, too.” 

Miss Allen: “We’ll have one more act for today—the bowing act. 
All stand, extend arms in front, palms up, and bow, keeping time to 
the music.” (The music gradually quickens until half of them fall out, 
getting so dizzy they grab chairs or each other and sway around. 
This can be made very laughable. Several exclaim how hungry they 
are, and begin to tell all the good things they will cook tomorrow, 
and for supper.) 

“I’m glad we don’t have to starve to reduce,” some one calls out. 

Hostess: “Now, ladies, come right this way to the dining room for 
refreshments.” (They crowd out hurriedly, laughing and talking.) 

(Curtain.) 


ADOPTING AN ORPHAN 


CAST—Mr. ancl Mrs. Cyrus Wilson, wlio have driven 200 miles 
from theii farm liome to Kansas City, intending to hunt up an orphan 
girl to adopt. They are both rather ill at ease in their “Sunday 
clothes.” Cyrus’ collar bothers him. He runs his finger around inside 
it frequently to ease the size. Maggie, his wife, is stout and pidgeon- 
toed, wears long skirts. (Cyrus is a woman disguised.) Mrs. Moore, 
the matron, wears a black dress, skirt to ankles, hair parted in middle, 
combed down smoothly; may w^ear small black lace cap. 


(A rap at door of Orphans’ Home.) 

Matron answers: “Good morning; come in.” 

Cyrus (shaking hands) : “My name’s Cyrus Wilson, from Horner’s 
Hollow, Oklahoma, and this is my wife, Maggie.” (Shake hands, 
matron introduces herself, and seats them.) 

Cyrus: “We’re turrible glad to git here (with a big sigh) ; we’ve 
driv bettr’n two hundred miles since yist’day mornin’ four o’clock, an’ 
our little ole flivver is tied up out here in front, jest a-pawin’ to start 
back home. She don’t feel to home in the city no more’n we do, but 
w 7 e kep right on axin till we found this place. We’re a-lookin’ for a 
orphant gal to take back with us, ain’t we, Maggie?” 

Maggie: “Yes, it’s powerful lonesome to our place sence our own 
gal got married an’ went off to Texas.” 

Matron: “What age do you want. We have children from three 
to fourteen years old.” 

Cyrus : “Oh, one nine, ten, or ’leven; don’t we, Maggie? She orto 
be good’n husky. We live twenty-five miles from a doctor.” 

Matron: “We have eight or nine the ages you name. I’ll go and 
bring some of them in so you can look them over.” 

Cyrus: “Gee, Mag; I guess we’ve got ’em cornered this time, eh? 
I feel as excited zif I w r as to a movie at the county seat.” 

Maggie: “Now, Cy; let’s take our time; don’t jump at the first 
one. You’re alius in sich a hurry.” 

Cyrus: “Well, jest you w’atch me, Mag. I’m a-gonna see the 
whole show.” 

(Enter Matron with tw 7 o orphans, all orphans are dressed in old 
faded gingham dresses or bib aprons, stretched down at sides or 
longer at back than front, hair parted in middle and in two braids 


— 20 — 




at back tied with strings, or straight back, and top half braided and 
joined in with lower braid, cotton stockings, wrinkled down; old shoes 
or slippers, not always mates.) 

Matron: “I’m sorry, good folks; we can’t dress up a bit, but 
finances are low. The man who paid most to support this home died 
six months ago; his relatives are fighting over his property (bringing 
one girl forward, who is angular and winks very fast all the time, 
gathering her dress up nervously in her hands at her sides and 
dropping it again).” 

Matron : “This is Sally Mander. She has been here only two 
months.” 

Cyrus: “Well, Sally; howdy do.” (Trying to shake hands. Sally 
hesitates, then extends her hand timidly. Cyrus grasps it, swinging 
it vigorously. She looks around scared and grows more nervous than 
ever, winking so fast she can hardly see.) 

Cyrus: “Have you been a-goin’ to school, Sally?” 

Sally: “Yessir, I’m in the fifth grade an’ I’m ’leven year old last 
Feb’uary.” 

Cyrus: “Weil, let’s see the other gal.” 

Matron (motioning her to come forward) : “This is Emma Grate. 
She’s been here a year.” (Emma toes in as she walks and has a 
nervous way of hitching up one shoulder quite often.) 

Cyrus (shaking hands with her): Glad to see ye, Emmy. How old 
are you?” 

Emma: “I’m ten come last August. I’m in the fourth grade at 
school (talking fast) ; I c’n sweep an’ dust, an’ scrub floors, ’n make 
beds, an’ churn. I c’n work like a farmer.” (Cyrus laughs, Maggie 
grins.) 

Matron: “That will do, girls; you may go now.” 

Cyrus: “Do you know anything about their pedigree or what 
kind o’ stock they come from?” 

Matron: “Oh, yes; all in black and white.” (Goes out after the 
papers.) 

Maggie: “Land o’ the livin’! Cy; I couldn’t have that Sally 
winkin’ an’ squintin’ all the time, makes me feel crosseyed, she can’t 
hold still. And Emmy! that twitchin’ shoulder makes me think of 
Saint Vitus dance; an’ she toes in dreatful!” 

Cyrus : “So do you, Mag. Everybody’d think she was ourn, ha, ha.” 

Matron (returns with several typewritten sheets, sits down by a 
table and reads) : “Now, Sally Mander is a good girl; her father 
was killed by a train in March and her mother was a nice woman 
but died of flu in January. Emma Grate’s father was a dope fiend 


and her mother died of overwork. Now, I’ll bring in some others.” 
(Goes out.) 

Cyrus: “Well, we’ll jest set tight an’ get a birdseye view of the 
bunch, eh, Maggie?” (Looking pleased and rubbing his knees.) 

Maggie (disgustedly) : “Well, I don’t like these ones a-tall.” 

Matron (bringing in two girls, marching them up in front of the 
Wilsons) : “This is Corrie Ander.” (Corrie limps painfully, her right 
leg being shorter she steps on tiptoe. Knowing she is lame she has 
a hopeless look.) 

Cyrus: “Well, Corrie; y’aint very strong, are ye. What’s y’ur 
age?” 

Corrie : “I’m most twelve. The doctor says I won’t always be 
lame, I’ll outgrow it. Have you got a farm, with pigs an’ chickens an’ 
111’ calves?” (Asked with great eagerness.) 

Cyrus: “You bet we have, and lots of steers. Think you could 
learn to rope a steer?” 

Corie (looking scared) : “Oh, I’m scared of steers. They might 
kick me.” (Cyrus chuckles.) 

Cyrus (to the other girl) : “And who’s this?” 

Matron: “She’s Anna Gram. She’s been here about a year.” 
(Anna is the prettiest girl of all. She bows low at the introduction, 
and does a little dance step, whirling around.) 

Cyrus: “Tut, tut! What have we here, vodyville? What can 
you do?” 

Anna (with a pertinent toss of her head and a giggle)- “Not a 
thing. Why, I wouldn’t go out on your old farm for the world. I 
want to live in a city and have fine clothes—and—lots of beaux, and 
later go on the stage; my mother was a dancing teacher.” (Whirls 
around, holding one hand high, the other on hip, striking the attitude 
of a tambourine player and dancer.) 

Matron: “That will do, girls; you may go.” 

Cyrus: “We know all about them two we wanto know. Corrie’s 
too lame and Annie’s too swift for me. The farm’s no place for her. 
Please trot out a couple more.” (Matron goes after two more.) 

Cyrus: “Lordy, Lordy! I ain’t got my breath yit. That little 
critter makes me dizzy.” 

Matron (returns with two, bringing them up together) : “This is 
Ella Phantine, a good girl who wants an education.” (Ella is a bright 
looking girl with heavy, black eyebrows. She is stooped and very 
nervous, putting both hands into her pockets and bringing them for¬ 
ward till the pockets touch in front of her, then back again, continu¬ 
ously, looking down all the time.) 


Cyrus : “Well, howdy, Ella. Looky here, you going’ to be a 
school ma’am?” 

Ella: “Yessir; I hope to, sir. I’m most twelve, sir, and in the 
eighth grade, sir. I’d rather study than do anything else, sir. I hope 
I wouldn’t have to work too hard to your house.” 

Cyrus: “Bless you, child; you won’t have to (looking significantly 
at Maggie and nudging her hard with his elbow). How about the 
other gal, madam?” 

Matron: “This is Allie Mony.” (Allie is a very plain looking girl 
but straight and strong; face covered with freckles. She grins at 
them with confidence.) 

Cyrus: “Now, Allie, I reckon you’re a swimmer or suthin’.” (Grin¬ 
ning at her.) 

Allie: “I can’t do anythin’ but wade; takes water to swim in.” 

Cyrus : “Oh, sure; I forgot that.” 

Allie: “But you can bet I know how to work. I c’n wash an’ 
iron, an’ scrub an’ wash dishes, an’ churn an’ milk the cows an’ feed 
the pigs an’ chickens an’ ride the horses.” 

Cyrus: “Whoa there, gal; too much is enough (laughing). Let 
me git my breath.” (Maggie laughs, too.) 

Allie: “Oh, please sir; take me; take me home with you. They 
say I’m the homeliest girl here; nobody will ever marry me. I’ll live 
with you folks fifty years an’ work forever. (Talks rapidly.) Oh, 
DO TAKE ME!” (Clasps her hands beseechingly.) 

Maggie: “We’ll see, dearie.” 

Matron: “That is all, girls; you may go.” 

Cyrus= “Any more like her?” 

Matron: “One more. I’ll give her a chance, she’s so tender¬ 
hearted and a good little thing.” (Goes after her.) 

Cyrus: “Well, Maggie; how about the freckled kid. She’s no 
beauty.” 

Maggie: “Say, Paw; she’s the only one I like, an’ being homely, 
she’s likely to stay by us a good while. Some rancher’l carry her off 
some day. We never axed about her folks. What you think of 
takin’ her?” 

Cyrus: “Oh, I’m agreeable. She looks like a right smart gal, and 
ain’t skeered o’ no kind o’ work. She c’d soon learn to rope steers.” 

Matron (returns, bringing a colored girl. Cyrus and Maggie stare 
with bulging eyes. Cyrus whistles): This is Topsy Turvy, She’s a 
good little worker.” 


— 23 — 


Cyrus : “Gee, wliiz, madam; we want one looks somethin’ like our 
own. They’d hardly think she was ourn, would they, Maggie? 
(Maggie snickers.) 

(Topsy stands with one foot over the other, rolling her eyes.) 

Topsy: “Oh, Lordy, wisht I had a home; Dear LORDY; wisht I 
had a home.” 

Cyrus: “I wisht you had, Topsy; but mine ain’t big enough 

for you.” 

Topsy: “Youall lookin’ fo’ ’n norphan, mistah? I’m it. Nevah 
had no fathah, nevah had no mothali. Stork done brung me to ole 
Mammy White.” 

Matron: “That will do, Topsy; you may go.” (Topsy goes out 
moaning, “Lordy, Lordy; wisht I had a home.”) 

Cyrus: “What kind of folks had Allie Mony? She suits us purty 
good.” 

Matron: “Her parents were farmers and drowned during a flood 
as they were: crossing a bridge it ga^e way. Allie was with a 
neighbor.” 

Cyrus (rising) : Well, pack ’er up; we’ll take ’er, eh, Maggie?” 

Maggie: “Yes, Cyrus; but I spose she has nothing to pack.” 

Cyrus: “My, this is harder work than pitchin’ hay.” 

(The matron brings her in, wearing an old hat, and the other 
girls crowd around to say goodbye. Allie clings to Cyrus’ hand, very 
happy, and Cyrus beams and hands a bag of gumdrops to them which 
they tear open and scramble for as they fall. Cyrus and Maggie 
leave with Allie while the orphans call after her: “Goodbye.” “Wisht 
I’se a-goin’.” “Send somebody here for me.” Etc.) 

(Curtain.) 



— 24 — 













LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





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